


Restoration

by TheLadyMerlin



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: tamingthemuse, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 20,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyMerlin/pseuds/TheLadyMerlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After fighting for his soul Spike heads to England</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> pickamix had asked for some Spike/Willow after reading my pre Buffy/Spike and my muse hasn't shut up about since. I'm not entirely sure where this is going to go or how long it will be, but it's a start. I consider it dipping my toe in the water to see how it feels. :)
> 
> This is currently a Mature rated Spike, Willow but may change in future to Explicit Spike/Willow.

**Title:** Restoration  
 **Author:** TheLadyMerlin  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Pairing:** Spike, Willow  
 **Prompt:** Community: Taming the Muse #402 Restoration  
 **Chapter:** 1/2 – I think  
 **Status:** In progress  
 **Fandom:** BtVS  
 **Genre:** AU  
 **Beta (s):** none, proofread  
 **Disclaimer:** not mine, all belongs to Joss  
 **Graphic:** Banner by TheLadyMerlin

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/LadyMerlin/media/LJ%20Banners/Restoration_zps0992e157.png.html)

Spike let his hand rest against the weather worn wood, feeling the small splinters prickling against the palm of his hand, and considered the word and its significance to all of them. It seemed a simple enough word, restoration. Something good, perhaps, making things better. But Spike knew that wasn't always true.

There was the restoration of Angel's soul and the crazy, insane period that came before it. 

The restoration of his own soul and the crazy, insane period that came after it. 

And isn't odd how Angel went crazy when he lost his soul and Spike went crazy when he won his back? Spike decided to ignore the hundred years Angel spent eating rats as simply bad taste and cowardice.

The restoration of Buffy. Pulling her out of heaven and the crazy, insane period when they fucked each other just to feel. He'd always wanted so much more from her, or at least he'd thought he did. His soul told him something entirely different.

He hated how it all coalesced into one horrible rage when he let his demon out to rule in a way he hadn't for so, so long. It should have felt good to finally let himself be free instead of keeping an iron grip. And it had. But the horror, the wrongness of what he tried to do. It was not his finest hour. It did, however, propel him to do something he was actually almost proud of. Almost.

A demon isn't supposed to feel emotions other than the bad ones. There isn't supposed to be love and tenderness. It was possession and grabbing what you want. Spike figured his demon simply didn't get the memo. Or Dru's madness made his demon a little mad, too. Of course, all those assumptions came from humans, watchers mostly. So if you're thinking it's a load of bollocks? You're probably right. Demons do feel love and hate and can be kind and caring. It just normally isn't directed at the human race. And why would it? Food source, remember?

He wondered all these things as he stood considering the simple wooden gate and the path beyond it, which led to the small group of cottages belonging to the coven. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd come here or why he'd come to England at all. After the initial period of … adjustment to his shiny, new soul, he seemed to need the connection of home. The demon, the vampire, may have considered the hellmouth a home of sorts, but for the man, the soul, England would always be home. Those were all good reasons of course, but the one that kept niggling at him and finally driving him to use one hand to open the gate, was that innate knowledge that Buffy needed them. Both of them. 

He could still travel well enough in the demon world and when the news of powerful, dark magicks being wielded by a young witch in California reached his ears, he paid attention. It was easy enough to slip into a library and look up some of the goings on in Sunnydale, California in the archive of newspapers. His eyes had welled up with tears when he read of Tara's death. He felt a pang of regret for not having been there. He knew it was probably stupid considering it had been daytime when it happened. But still, his heart didn't know that and it hurt for her loss. A discreet call to Clem, who was often overlooked and observed everything, gave him the rest of the information he needed. 

Now all he had to do was open the gate and walk down that path. Would she be glad to see him?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fighting for his soul Spike heads to England

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for those of you who prefer longer chapters, but this seems to be coming in small chunks. I also don't want to rush this one as I really wanna get it right.

Spike wasn't entirely sure of the greeting he would receive from the coven. He'd been relying on the hope that they would sense he meant them no harm and give him a chance to explain before they tried to send him to hell. Of course, there was a part of him that wouldn't exactly mind them doing just that. But he'd been trying not to listen to that nagging, guilt ridden voice so much. Besides, over these past few months he'd decided that Buffy may have been right – the hardest thing in this world is to live in it.

Not wanting to be accused of taking after the great poof, he had no plans to go on some great quest for redemption. No. At this point Spike much preferred doing something far more important and that was helping Buffy. How Angel could desert the slayer when he could be, should be, helping was even more proof that he was a selfish bastard. Took right after Angelus in that respect. 

No, Spike had every intention of helping Buffy as best he could and that meant convincing Red it was time for her to get back where she belonged. Spike wasn't sure what was coming but he knew something was and it was going to be big. Buffy would need both of them.

He was greeted calmly, serenely. There were no threats, only an awareness which made him slightly uncomfortable. They merely watched as he passed, his footsteps still following the path and taking him to where a lone witch was standing, and apparently, waiting for him. As he grew closer he could see she was older than she first appeared, but it wasn't in the way she looked. It was all in the way she carried herself and he could clearly see the wisdom of years in her eyes. The only real betrayal of her age.

She acted as if he'd been expected, and maybe he had. Witches were a tricky lot with their varied skills and spells. “Welcome to our coven William of Aurelius,” she greeted him formally. 

It was yet another thing which added to his discomfort. If they knew so bloody much then surely they must know he wasn't deserving of their kindness. “Thank you...” he replied, pausing when he realised he didn't even know her name. Maybe rushing off on his own to find the witch had been a bit rash. But it had felt so damn good to finally have a purpose after floundering around for months.

“Katrina,” the witch supplied, bringing him back from his musings. He really needed to stop doing that and regain his focus.

“You know why I'm here?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Spike fidgeted. She couldn't just make this easy for him? “Do you think I could see her then?”

She studied him for a long, awkward moment before smiling gently. “Yes, but you may find she isn't ready.”

“Is she?”

“That isn't for me to decide. Come.” She turned and started heading for the largest of the cottages. “There are some who claim that people cannot change but I find that disheartening. Without change there would be no growing or learning. We would remain stagnant.”

Spike nodded, uncomfortable, knowing she was trying to tell him something. He wasn't sure he understood or even wanted to understand it. She led him inside and down a corridor painted in a light, pastel blue which had an oversized, airy room at the end. Spike looked around taking in the simple wooden furniture, oddly thinking of Harris and how he would appreciate the craftsmanship of the place.

“Make yourself comfortable and I'll let Willow know she has company,” Katrina said before leaving the room.

Spike perched himself on the edge of a chair before his restlessness forced him to start pacing. He really didn't know why he was so nervous. It was only Willow. No, that wasn't entirely true and he knew it. He was wondering if she knew what he'd tried to do. Knowing Harris, one of the first things he would have done was to blab to anyone who would listen. And, of course, that would include Red. It's not that it was a secret but … fuck. He couldn't do this. What the hell had he been thinking coming here!? He headed for the doorway but a familiar voice stilled his movements.

“Giles, not that I don't appreciate getting out of learning all about zygomancy, and it would have to be pretty bad if I'm grateful for getting out of learning, but I already told you – Oh! Spike!”

“'Ello, Red,” Spike said giving her a little nod and wishing he had his duster so he could hide the shaking of his hands. Willow looked good. Tired, but good. And now a little wary. Spike couldn't bring himself to blame her for that. “Sorry 'bout your girl. She was a good one.” Willow paled. “I'm sorry,” Spike murmured. “I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't've come.” He headed for the door but she was suddenly in his way.

“No!” Willow protested. “No, it's okay. I just miss her a lot and sometimes...”

“'T's hard,” Spike supplied softly and Willow nodded. She looked up to meet his eyes only to step back with a gasp.

“Oh my goddess! It's you!”

“Well, yeah,” Spike agreed. 

“I mean the soul. We thought it was Angel,” she continued distractedly before looking at him again, her expression wistful. “But it was you.”


	3. Demonomania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fighting for his soul Spike heads to England

“I'll be right back.” Willow got halfway out the door before turning with a slight blush on her cheeks. “Wait here, please. I won't be long.”

Spike nodded and gave her a rare, genuine smile in return. He figured it was the slight, pink flush that was his undoing. He'd always found Willow's easily flustered demeanour far too endearing for his own good. He also knew, only too well, that under the bashful exterior resided a scarily powerful witch. One who could probably take him out if he wasn't careful. She smiled and blushed again and Spike found himself grinning like an idiot and ducking his head. 

When he gathered the courage to look back up, she was gone. But he'd known that all along. He'd heard her heartbeat fading away as she travelled down the same long hallway he'd come down himself not that long ago. He paced the room looking at the paintings on the walls and the small decorative bits of art scattered over the tables and on some shelves on the wall. He noted the items all appeared to have been made by hand and guessed it was the work of the coven, or at least some of them. He shrugged figuring they needed something to do to pass the time as the place was fairly secluded. 

“C'mon,” Willow said, popping her head back in and beckoning him. 

They made small talk as they went back outside and down another path which meandered around the small area the coven had claimed as its own. Spike was reminded of the small communities they would come across from time to time as their vampire family roamed the world in search of adventure. 

The coven appeared to be fairly self sustaining, although not entirely cut off from technology or the outside world as some communities tended to be. He wondered if the solitude and the closeness to nature made it easier to cast. His own knowledge of magic was pretty sketchy at best. And with Dru as a teacher, he wouldn't trust his own knowledge or his skills. He did recall Glinda mentioning the power of the earth and he'd always got a strong sense of nurturing and caring whenever he'd been around her. 

Of course, the solitude could merely be for their own protection. Although humans were much more enlightened these days, it still wouldn't do for someone to come along and start accusing them of demonomania.

They came to a little cottage nestled under the large branches of an enormous oak tree. Willow skipped up the steps and opened the door. “Come in Spike,” she said, before turning and disappearing inside.

Spike poked his head inside and felt himself relax almost immediately. He'd been vaguely aware of the wards prickling over his skin but here there was nothing. It was like a safe haven, a cocoon where he could totally relax. 

“Have a seat,” Willow offered, indicating the cosy living area with its soft cushions in muted greens and browns. “I'll make us some tea.” 

Spike watched her head off as he sat gingerly on one end of the couch. He looked around while he waited, noting the round area rug in the same greens and browns and more of the same handmade art scattered about the room. He wondered if Willow had made the items that decorated the space and imagined her sitting on a stool in a paint-spattered top with a look of utter concentration on her face as she painstakingly tried to get the petals of the each daisy in her panting to look just right. He almost didn't notice when she came back to the room carrying a small tray in her hands. 

“I figured we'd be more comfortable talking here than over at the hall,” she said, placing the tray on the low table in front of the couch. She sat on the opposite end from where he'd chosen to sit, and handed him a steaming cup.

“Is this your place?” Spike asked, surprised she would bring him here, or that the coven would even allow it.

“Uhm, yeah.” And there was that blush again. “You don't mind, do you? I mean, if you do it's fine. We can go back or find-”

“Willow, it's fine. Just … unexpected is all.”

“Spike, you have a soul. A. Soul. I think we can trust you.”

Spike felt a flash of annoyance at her words. It always came down to the same thing with the lot of them. The soul equated to some kind of magical get out of jail free card. All past sins and crimes are instantly erased and all is forgiven. He'd worked so damn hard trying to be good, denying his nature and helping the slayer, saving their lives time and again. None of it had made any difference. Not a one of them would've bothered to piss on him if he'd caught on fire. He opened his mouth to make a scathing comment but the witch spoke first.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

Now that was out of the blue. “Why?”

Willow winced. “I realised how that sounded and it was so totally unfair. I don't think it's the whole truth either.”

Spike titled his head and studied the witch through narrowed eyes. He couldn't seem to figure her out at all. “Oh? How so?”

“I think I trusted you before.” She waved a hand around vaguely. “You know, before.”

“Well, yeah,” Spike allowed. “Chip kinda made it a bit hard for me to be all evil and whatnot.”

She scrunched up her face and shook her head. “No. I think it was even before the chip.”

Spike raised his eyebrows at that. “Must've been losing my touch then,” he joked half-heartedly. When Willow only responded with a tiny shrug, he decided to change the subject. They'd come here to talk about something anyway. “So you were going to tell me about thinking I was...” He paused and grimaced distastefully. “Angel or something.”

When her eyes lit up with excitement, Spike knew he'd been right to get things back on track. “Apparently there are a lot of prophesies and scrolls concerning the vampire with a soul. The watchers have been studying them for years but since Angel has supposedly taken over some law firm in LA they've been even more interested. So all these watchers are busy studying these prophesies when all of sudden they started changing! Some of them right before their eyes!”

“And they figured Angel had gone and done something,” Spike supplied, catching on.

“Exactly! But now we know it wasn't because of anything Angel did at all. It was you. Goddess Spike! You...you have a soul.” 

“Kinda aware of that,” Spike replied with a smirk.

“I know but this is so amazing. Does Buffy know?”

Spike cringed inside hoping the hurt didn't show in his face. He knew it had when he saw the sadness in Willow's eyes. “'S'okay, Red. And, no she doesn't. I'm not sure I want her to.” 

“Why?”

“I didn't get it so all the wrongs I've done would instantly be forgiven or t-to impress anyone. I did it because – dammit.”

Warm, slender fingers twined with his own and he looked down in wonder. “I'm the last one who is gonna criticise you Spike. You know what I did?” Willow bit at her lip and waited. Spike nodded. “Then you must know I won't judge you or laugh at you.”

For some reason Spike did believe her. He quickly decided if they were going to be able to help Buffy then they both needed to heal. In order to heal they needed to talk and who better to talk to than each other. “I did it to remember. To remember what it was like to be a man, to know the difference between right and wrong. I kept trying and trying and getting it all so bloody wrong all the damn time. Don't you think that's pathetic?”

“Oh, no! No. I think it's … it's just right.”

Spike watched as tears formed in her eyes and threatened to fall. He really didn't want to see her cry. “Are you going to tell them?”

Willow sniffled, rummaging in her pocket and producing a tissue. “Who?”

“The watchers? Rupert?”

“Not if you don't want me to.”

Spike was stunned by that. “Really?”

“It's not my place to tell.”

Such wisdom and grace reminded him of Tara, but he didn't say so. Not out loud. He suddenly felt very tired and he yawned hugely. “Sorry.”

Willow grinned crookedly. “I'm kinda tired, too. You can stay here. It's small, but I've got an extra room.”

Spike snorted. “Can't be any worse than Harris' basement.”

Willow wrinkled her nose. “Don't tell him I said so but, yeah, it was kinda icky.”


	4. Potpourri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short interlude before The Talk :)

Spike woke, sitting up with a start and looking around the room wildly. His memories slowly returned and the disorientation faded, as did the gasps for unneeded air. Spike shivered and grabbed for the recently discarded blankets. He hated these feelings of disorientation and weakness. He remembered William and how he'd always hated the weakness most of all. Through the years he'd learned to bury it deep beneath a hard, callous persona like a shield. But the soul kept gnawing at his defences, and coupled with his just waking, it made him vulnerable. 

He scrubbed at his face with his hands, hoping to dash the rest of the blurriness. He stopped and looked up when he heard a small sound in another part of the house. He looked around again and it all fell into place. Willow and tea and talking and both of them so tired. Willow had shoved a pillow and some clean linens in his arms and sent him off to her tiny guest room. 

And it was a tiny room. But it was more cosy than tiny and it made him feel safer than he had in a very long time. He'd fallen asleep almost from the moment his head hit the pillow. 

He swung his legs over the side of the surprisingly comfortable single bed, stood and sighed as he stretched all the kinks from his body. He reached for his clothes but stilled when his hand encountered the stiff, dirty fabric. There hadn't been many chances to get clean while he'd been on his travels, let alone get his clothes washed. Consequently, they were pretty filthy. He considered wrapping himself in the sheet from the bed but quickly discarded the idea as not being very conducive to his big bad image, which had been battered and dented more than enough recently. If he'd still had his duster, he could've simply worn it as an extremely cool leather robe. Maybe even start a new fashion trend. 

Spike grinned and shook his head at his own foolishness. Another sound from outside the little room and he decided to stop stalling. With a resigned sigh, he worked his legs into the rigid denim and grabbed for his shirt. Weak light peeped around the shade of the room's only window. Spike figured it must be late afternoon, which meant he'd slept for over twelve hours. Impressive. He only wished he felt better for it, more awake. All he seemed to feel though, was more tired. 

He grunted in annoyance, opened the door and strode straight into Willow, who squeaked in surprise. The bowl she'd been carrying went spinning out of her hands and they both watched with wide eyes as petals and spices flew through the air. They collided again when they futilely tried to contain the mess and wound up in a heap on the the floor and covered in fragrant potpourri.

“Shit, Red-” Spike started to apologise but stopped when he saw the grin on Willow's face and the twinkle in her eye. 

“Morning, well, afternoon actually,” she said, still smiling.

Spike nodded and stood, leaning over to help Willow to her feet. “Sorry about the mess,” he said, waving his hands around in the direction of the bowl and its scattered contents. 

Willow shrugged and reached up to pluck a petal from his hair. “It's okay.” She headed off in the direction of the kitchen. Spike followed and watched while she got a broom from the tall, narrow cupboard next to the slightly battered refrigerator. She turned to head back the way she'd come, but Spike stepped in front of her.

“Here, let me do that,” he said, taking the broom from her hand. 

“Oh, but you don't have to.”

“Was my fault.” Willow still didn't look convinced so he decided to try another approach. “Look, it's the least I can do. You let me stay and I'd really like a shower and something clean to wear.” Willow looked him over and scrunched up her nose a bit. Spike self-consciously pulled at his dirty shirt with his free hand. “It's been ages...please?”

“Fine,” Willow said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “You clean up the hall while I try to find something for you to wear.”

By the time Spike had managed to clean up all the elusive bit and pieces, Willow had reappeared with a small pile of clothing, which consisted of an oversized sweatshirt, several soft T-shirts, and a pair of faded blue denims. 

“Thanks,” he said, taking the pile and standing awkwardly in the kitchen not knowing what to do.

“You go take a shower,” Willow said, pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. “I'll make us something to eat and we can … talk.”

Spike's stomach dropped. Talk? He knew he had yet to explain why he'd suddenly shown up at the coven. There was the sudden revelation of his shiny new soul and then after they'd both been so tired. Well, it never occurred to him to explain and apparently it hadn't occurred to Willow to ask. He really couldn't say he was looking forward to this. He was, however, looking forward to a shower. “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder with far more confidence than he felt. 

Willow gave him another sunny smile and shooed him on his way. 

Shit. He genuinely hoped he was doing the right thing here. She seemed ...not happy but content. Was his coming here and trying to drag her back to Sunnydale going to ruin all that? Spike shut the bathroom door and started the shower. He watched the water as it began to sluice away all the dirt and grime he'd accumulated over the last few months and wished it could wash away all his worries just as easily.


	5. Lighthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Willow finally have the talk

The shower had been deliciously hot and the fluffy, oversized sweatshirt held all that warmth perfectly. It wasn't his duster, but then he wasn't the same Spike who had earned it all those years ago. He shrugged away the thoughts of New York and the other slayer before they could ruin his illusion of comfort. If he wanted to convince Willow to come back to Sunnydale with him, he needed to appear cool, calm and collected.

He found the witch in the kitchen where he had left her, but now she was busily humming along to a small radio while she puttered about with a surprising efficiency. Spike watched her for a few moments, unobserved, and quickly reassessed his opinion. It made sense she was competent in the kitchen just like she was in every other part of her life. Spike smiled as he recalled seeing her enthusiasm whenever it came to research or most anything else really. At first he'd found it annoying and then, later, he'd come to find it amusing to watch. Now, it held a fascination and charm he refused to explore or even contemplate. 

She turned when he cleared his throat to make his presence known.

“Hey, you look loads better,” she greeted him happily before her eyes widened and her skin flushed. “Not that you didn't look okay before, but, you know, with the dirt and the travelling and... where did you go anyway?”

Spike bit his lip to keep from laughing. The Scooby babble made him finally feel like he was welcome and wanted. But he wasn't sure Willow would understand and he didn't want to hurt her. And wasn't that an odd thought. It was so strange the way the soul made him see the world, and the people in it, differently. 

“Spike?” Willow queried, taking a concerned step in his direction.

“Sorry, sorry. 'M fine just a bit of wool-gathering.” Willow nodded in understanding but was still gnawing worriedly on her lower lip. “What?”

“What's it like?” she asked hesitantly.

“What? The soul?” Willow nodded. Spike sat heavily in one of the wooden chairs around the small table. “I-I'm not sure I can explain it.”

Willow hurried toward him, her hands waving around erratically. “Oh Goddess. I shouldn't've asked you that. I'm so sorry. You don't have to tell me.”

Spike smiled, warmed by the display. “'S ok, pet. No harm done and I actually don't mind all that much. Don't know how to explain it all really.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it's really not any of my business.”

“'M sure,” Spike replied with a slight nod. “And if there was anyone who could understand, it would be you.” Willow looked puzzled by that, but the toaster chose that moment to eject its contents, and they both jumped and then laughed. “How about some brekkie then?”

“I hope you like omelets,” Willow commented, turning back to the cooker.

“I like them just fine, pet,” Spike said, snagging the notebook and pencil lying on the table. 

Spike drew and Willow made breakfast and they both turned to look at each when they noticed they were both humming along to the radio. It was … nice Spike decided. There was no pressure, no choices to make. He could simply be in this moment with no worries about the past or the future. 

“That's nice,” Willow commented as she placed a plate next to his arm. “I didn't know you could draw.”

Spike looked at the sketch he'd drawn and shrugged. He could admit it really wasn't bad, but anyone could clearly see the lighthouse was slightly crooked and the waves were missing something. He looked up while sliding the book away. “You'd be amazed what ya pick up over the years and Angelus always prided himself on the talents of his childer. He loved to brag and show off, pretending he was some kind of aristocrat. He got to brag and meanwhile I got to have all the boring lessons in music and art.”

“I think it sounds wonderful,” Willow said dreamily as she slid into the seat opposite.

“Believe me when I tell you that it was not all hearts and flowers. We were vampires and tended to go through an astonishingly high number of instructors. And punishments for lessons not learned were harsh.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, but Spike could see the exact moment when Willow realised exactly what he meant. “Well other than the killing and the drinking of blood and stuff, it sounds like, uhm...fun?” Her crooked grin surprised him, but she'd been doing that a lot since he'd shown up. “So I was sorta wondering...”

“Why I suddenly showed up?” he guessed taking a bite of his omelet. It was delicious and would do for now.

“Well...yeah. Not that I mind you being here...but yeah, kinda.”

Spike carefully put down his fork. “There's something coming. Something big and bad and Buffy is going to need every single one of us.”

“No. No, I couldn't,” Willow gasped, recoiling in horror.

“She needs you,” Spike stressed.

“After what I did? No, I don't think anyone needs me.”

“Red, please. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.”

“I know but … do you really know what I did?” Spike nodded but she continued as if she hadn't noticed. “I tried to destroy the world. All of it. Every little bit. I was so...so lost and hurt and angry.”

“Hell, Red, even Angel tried to do that. Not very successfully I might add. And he didn't have an excuse except for being evil and, maybe, a little stupid.”

“Goddess, Spike, please don't try to make me feel better. I really, really don't deserve it.”

“What do you deserve then, huh?”

“You don't understand.”

“I understand that your friends will have forgiven you for what happened. You weren't thinking straight. They know that. And they need your help now. Buffy needs your help.” 

Willow looked away and when she met his eyes again, hers were wet with unshed tears. “But I-I killed Warren. I strung him up and … and I tortured him. I hated him and I killed him. I don't know if I can ever go back.” She swept an angry hand across her eyes. “You go. They need you, not me.”

Spike shook his head and snorted softly. “You think you got it all wrong? That you did something so awful you can't ever be forgiven?” Spike leaned forward in his chair, hands flat on the table. “I tried to rape Buffy. She stopped me. But I …” Spike wilted and turned away. “I hurt her,” he finished softly, ashamed.

“I don't believe that,” Willow said, meeting and holding his eyes.

Spike squirmed under the scrutiny. “Well, it's true.”

“No,” Willow protested. “Even drunk and evil, I said no and you stopped.”

“What?” Spike asked, wondering when he'd lost track of the conversation.

“You remember,” she prompted, actually grinning a little at the memory. “You kidnapped me and Xander because you wanted me to do a spell for you.”

“The lilac number.”

Willow nodded. “That's right. You got kinda, uhm ... close and I said no and you backed right off.”

“I remember,” Spike said thoughtfully. “So let me get this straight. You can forgive me for what I did, what I tried to do, but you can't forgive yourself?”

“Can you?” Willow countered.

“Touché. Of course, that doesn't change the fact that Buffy needs us. Both of us.”

Willow glared at him but Spike refused to be intimidated by the famous resolve face.

“Fine,” she finally relented. “I'll think about it.”

“That's all I ask, Red.”


	6. Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of an impending visit reaches the coven

The days were lazy and content and they quickly fell into a comfortable and easy routine. Spike knew it couldn't last. These things never did. And besides, there was still whatever was happening, or going to happen, in Sunnydale. Spike knew they had some time, but as much as he might want to, he couldn't simply languor here. No matter how tempting it might be to stay in this bubble of tranquillity, he knew it was impossible.

The news that one of the representatives from the Council was coming for a visit, shattered any and all illusions Spike may have had about his so called peaceful existence, no matter that he even knew it was a fabrication. He also knew with a certainty that the person visiting would be none other than one Rupert Giles. It made sense. Especially given the fact that Willow had thought Spike had been Giles when he'd first appeared. 

Spike wasn't stupid and he knew this was not going to be pretty. 

“Maybe I should just go.”

“Go?” Willow echoed, puzzled and sounding slightly hurt. “But why?”

“Well, you know, before the disapproving watcher arrives and all the fireworks start.” 

“You don't know-”

“There is no way Ol' Rupert is gonna approve of my being here,” Spike interrupted. “Just the thought of my presence anywhere near any of his precious charges and he'd be havin' nightmares. No, it wouldn't do to have something so … so tainted here.”

“Bullshit!” 

Spike wasn't sure who was more surprised by Willow's outburst and they both stood for a moment simply staring. Spike grinned. He couldn't help it. It was just so out of character. Yeah, sure, he knew she had it in her, but it was all so unexpected. Willow giggled a bit before throwing a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. It made Spike's grin even bigger and he let out a chuckle. She shook her head as if pleading for him to stop, but it was too late. She let lose a rich, warm stream of laughter. Spike was struck by how free and open she was at that moment and he envied her, just a little. 

“So what's the bull? Rupert not wanting me here?”

“No, you've probably got that right. I've always been surprised that the council is so narrow-minded when it come to demons. I mean, they aren't all bad, are they? Look at Clem for one.”

“That might be true, but you still need to be careful. The Council may be a bunch of pansy arsed gits, but for all that, they are right about one thing. A lot of demons can't be trusted. Don't want you getting' yourself hurt thinking you can.”

“Agreed,” Willow nodded with a clever little smile.

“Why am I sensing a condition here?”

“That would be because you're right. I promise to be careful and you promise to stay.”

Spike groaned, knowing he'd agree even if he hated the idea of being here when Giles arrived. “Fine. You win. But no blaming me if things get noisy around here.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” Willow replied with a cheeky little grin.


	7. Arsenal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles finally arrives

“You're sure this is what you want?”

“Spike,” Willow said, running the dust cloth over the long, low table in front of the couch. “This is my home and I can decide who I want to be here.”

“And you choose me?” Willow stopped and looked up, nodding. Spike rolled his eyes, but was secretly pleased she wanted him to stay. “Well, I can't say much for your choices...” Willow folded her arms and her foot started a decisive tapping. “...But it is your choice.”

“It is,” Willow said before falling suspiciously silent and biting nervously at her bottom lip. Her behaviour was a complete turnaround to just a moment ago making it even more startling.

“What?” Spike asked cautiously.

“Well, I know you and Giles don't always... agree but I was wondering if, maybe, you could try to be...to get along?” Spike peered at her a 'no way' ready on his lips. “For me?”

The big, doe eyes were his undoing and Spike idly wondered if she did it on purpose. “Yeah. Fine,” he relented with a wave of his hand. “I'll play nice with the watcher.”

Willow bounced on the spot before rushing over and giving him a one armed hug. “Thank you,” she breathed softly. When their eyes met, Spike found himself wondering if he'd ever seen a prettier shade of green. They stood transfixed, searching, wondering until a solid rap on the door had them jumping apart guiltily. “Uhm, so... that'll be... I'll... ah just go get that.”

“You do that,” Spike said, watching her walk away. She turned just before opening the door, tucking her hair behind her ear. Spike gave her an encouraging grin and she smiled back. Putting off having to see the watcher right away, Spike switched on the small television and started flicking through the channels. Finding a footie match pitting Man U against Arsenal, Spike tossed the remote on the table and leaned back on the couch. He could hear the sounds of voices in the kitchen and wondered how long he had before he had to face the man who considered his slayer to be a daughter. A daughter Spike had become so obsessed with that he'd done the unthinkable. Why did he let the little witch talk him into staying? Spike smacked a fist against the cushion of the couch. He refused to run away from this. Instead of being a coward and hiding away, he would face the watcher and his wrath. Spike looked up as the voices came closer.

“I didn't realise- Spike!?” The watcher turned disbelieving eyes on Willow. “What is he doing here?” he asked pointing an accusing finger at the vampire.

Willow fidgeted a bit but Spike had to give her credit for keeping a steady voice when she answered. “He came to see me and I asked him to stay.”

“You asked him?” Willow nodded, keeping her head high. “Why on earth would you do something so incredibly foolish? Do you have any idea what has happened?”

“Of course I do,” Willow said, moving to the stand near Spike. “And it's no worse than what I did.”

Giles rubbed at his forehead and paced quietly. He stopped and looked between them, finally pinning Spike with an intense glare. “Do you have anything to say?”

Spike took a moment to think, remembering Willow's earlier request to try to get along. “I'm not here to cause any trouble. I only want to help.”

“Help? I highly doubt we need your sort of help.”

“Giles, please,” Willow begged.

“I'm sorry, Willow, but I cannot condone this-this whatever it is that is going on here.” The watcher headed for the door with Willow on his heels. 

“Where are you going? You just got here.”

“I'll be back shortly,” he explained, opening the door. “I feel I must speak with Katrina immediately.” 

And with that he was gone.

“Well,” Spike said. “That went well.” 

Willow turned slowly and stared. “Ya think?”

Spike shrugged. “'M sorry, Red. Just tryin' to lighten the mood a bit.”

Willow waved a hand and flopped on the couch with a sigh. “It doesn't matter. How much trouble do you suppose I'm in?”

“I thought you asked if I could stay?”

Willow sat up with a start. “I did,” she defended.

“What makes you think you're in trouble then? Didn't do anything wrong, didya?”

“Well...no.”

“Look, why don't ya just relax and watch the match with me.”

“But Giles-”

“Stop worrying about Giles and start worrying about Rooney,” Spike said pointing at the telly.

“Rooney?”

“Yeah, Rooney. The silly git who just missed that penalty.”

Willow leaned forward and watched the replay. She frowned as the ball went wide of the net. “That wasn't a very good shot, was it?”

“Nope,” Spike replied, happy to have gotten her mind on something else. 

“What does that flag mean?”

“The player was offside.”

“Offside?”

Spike made himself comfortable and prepared to educate the witch on the rules of proper football. At the very least it would make a good distraction until the watcher came back. If the watcher came back. No. With Spike's luck? The watcher was sure to come back.


	8. Splatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles returns

The game was just ending when someone rapped on the door once more. It wasn't hard to guess who it was and Spike wondered if he should make himself scarce this time. He really didn't want to cause the witch any more trouble. She'd been nice to him since he shown up out of nowhere, taking him in and giving him more understanding than anyone had in a very long time. On the other hand, it irked him something fierce to be running away from a watcher of all people. 

He had a healthy respect for Giles, and had seen his fair share of 'Ripper' lurking under the surface of the tweedy exterior. Giles had also come through with a steely determination when it had come time to deal with the Ben situation. Spike would have done it himself if he'd thought the chip wouldn't've splattered his brains all over Sunnydale. As it was, he'd fully untended to call in a few favours and have the problem eliminated, but Giles had gotten there first. When Spike had discovered what the watcher had done, they had both completely understood each other at that moment. There were times when violence was necessary, when there wasn't any other options, when evil was the only way to protect what was good in the world. 

Spike sighed, tightened his hand on the remote, remained seated on the couch with his eyes unseeing on the screen and listened unashamedly to the conversation in the hallway.

“I know you haven't always been a fan of Spike but he's changed Giles, and he's helped me, he really has.”

Spike smiled. He'd done his best to try to get Willow to accept the things she'd done and to move on and knowing that his presence had helped in some small way was soothing to his soul.

“Yes, well, while I admit I am hesitant to believe you, I have been overruled on the matter. Katrina seems to think having him here is....” 

Spike stilled and waited to see how the watcher would finish the sentence.

“Therapeutic for you. She has said there's been a vast improvement in your confidence and spirits since he's arrived. I find it all quite difficult to understand. Perhaps you could explain it to me?”

Spike hoped Willow would be able to keep his confidence. She had promised not to tell, but he also knew she'd always thought of Giles as an authority figure. Even Spike knew Red had a problem standing up to anyone in authority.

“It's really not my place to tell.”

“So there is something to tell then?”

Spike winced and wondered what she'd do now.

“Why don't you stay for dinner and you can talk to Spike yourself.”

“Very well then.”

Spike leaned back on the couch, feigning nonchalance as he heard them approach the room. 

“Giles is staying for dinner, isn't that nice?” Willow announced brightly. A bit too brightly.

“Grand,” Spike replied, sarcastically. Giles was boldly staring, making Spike feel decidedly uncomfortable. “I'll go make some tea while we wait for dinner to be ready.” Spike nearly ran for the kitchen, angry that he let the watcher get to him. He yanked open the cabinet where the tea was kept, flung the box on the counter and gave the door a hard shove. He smiled in childish delight at the sharp noise it made when it slammed closed He moved to the cupboard where the mugs were kept and had to stop himself from throwing the crockery around. Smashing the mugs to shards would no doubt be satisfying at the moment, but he knew he'd regret it later. Or at least his soul would. 

“Spike?”

Spike stilled and turned to face the witch. “Red.”

“Are you okay?”

He took an unneeded but still very necessary breath. It wasn't Willow's fault the watcher managed to get under his skin so easily. “Yeah. It's just... the way he looks at me. It makes me feel like-like I'm not good enough.” Just the admission made Spike's hand grasp the mug in his hand a bit too tightly and he had to concentrate to loosen his fingers. “And maybe I'm not,” Spike confessed, looking away, unable to meet Willow's eyes, “but I don't need the likes of him pointing it out.”

“Oh, Spike,” Willow said, reaching out a hand and gently caressing his cheek. “You're no more unworthy than I am.”

Spike tried so hard not to press into the warmth of that small hand, not to accept the small comfort Willow was offering. But he'd forever be a slave to his emotions. And impulsive. He closed his eyes and let her touch soothe him, calm him. “Thank you,” he said opening his eyes. “You can almost make me believe I'm more than just a monster.”

Willow smiled softly. “And you can almost make me believe I'm more than just a murderer.”

Spike carefully set the mug on the counter and gently, but firmly, grasped Willow by the arms. “You listen to me, Red. You are so much more than most people I've ever had the pleasure or the displeasure to meet. Your kindness and compassion alone make you more than worthy than most. You're special.” Willow shook her head in denial of his words. “You are,” he stressed, “and I don't care how long it takes, I will convince you that it's true. Each and every word.”

Willow smiled crookedly. “Well, that may take a while.”

“Said I didn't care how long it took, didn't I?”

“That you did,” Willow answered, nodding. “So, dinner? Steak pie or a curry?”

Spiked grinned evilly. “Oh, I definitely think we should have a curry.”

“You're evil,” Willow giggled.

“Than I am,” Spike agreed happily.


	9. Flail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and some talk

They settled around the small table in the kitchen with Willow safely ensconced in the chair between the two males and providing, an unfortunately, much needed buffer. Giles eyes lit up when he saw the meal and Spike couldn't manage to suppress the small grin as he watched the man lift a forkful of the hot, spicy curry to his mouth. His small grin of victory slid off his face as he watched the watcher moan in appreciation. 

“Delicious. One thing I have missed is a good, hot, spicy curry. There is a small little shop not far from the Magic Box which made a passable Phaal, but doesn't compare to this.” He turned to Willow with a smile. “Did you make this yourself?”

Spike's grin returned. “Actually, it was me.”

“Amazing, isn't it?” Willow gushed, happily, unaware of the watcher's disbelieving gaze. “The first time he made it for me, I was all worried it would be too spicy and stuff, but it's not. Well, it's not that it isn't hot because it is, but Spike showed me how to eat it without burning my mouth off.” She turned to her vampire companion with a scolding smile. “Of course, that was after he let me dance around the kitchen panting after I'd taken my first bite.”

Giles looked between them and sniffed in disdain. “I suppose a neutered vampire with no other prospects must find his entertainment by preying on young innocent girls.”

Spike stiffened in his chair, trying to decide if the comment was meant at face value or contained a hidden, deeper meaning. Even if Giles didn't mean to refer to his attack on Buffy, it certainly brought it to the forefront of Spike's mind regardless. 

Willow placed a calming hand over Spike's, where it mindlessly twitched around the unused fork between his fingers. “Oh, he didn't mean any harm and it was pretty funny.”

“Yes, well, fortunately that little stunt proved harmless.”

Willow looked between them, a small line of confusion appearing between her eyes. “Am I missing something here?”

Spike considered telling her the truth, but what would be the point? Besides, she already knew what he'd done. It wasn't like the watcher was outing him or anything. “Ol' Rupes is just feeling a bit protective. Wants to make sure I'm not planning on hurting you any.”

Willow made a dismissive gesture. “Of course you're not.”

Giles grunted non-committally and took another bite of his curry.

“Well, he's not,” Willow persisted.

“Red,” Spike said, wanting her to drop it, “it's okay. He's only looking out for you. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Indeed,” Giles added, his voice hard.

Willow threw a pointed look in the watcher's direction, but this time kept her peace. Spike was grateful for the brief reprieve, but also knew the watcher was here for a reason, which didn't include taking pot-shots at Willow's guest vampire. Giles hadn't even known he was here until he'd arrived. 

“Well, it's nice to see you again anyway. I've missed you,” Willow said, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. Spike had a bad feeling it was going to backfire on her.

“As much as I wish this was merely a social visit,” Giles began, giving undue concentration to placing his fork on his plate, “some concerns have recently come to light.”

And there it was, all double talk and sugar coated, but a backfire nonetheless. “Is this to do what's happening in Sunnydale?” Spike asked.

Giles shot him a puzzled look. “What do you know about the goings on there? I had thought you'd left some time ago and not been back?”

Spike shrugged. “I haven't, but every demon knows something is coming. You'd have to be living under a rock not to know.”

Giles nodded in acceptance. “I'm afraid that's true. Something is coming. I only wish we knew what it was. We are going to need to be prepared.” Giles turned to look directly at Willow. “All of us.”

Spike could see the panic in her eyes as she flailed for an answer which would satisfy, but keep her out of Sunnydale as well. “I-I can't do this,” Willow finally offered, quietly, sadly.

“You can and you will,” Giles retorted sternly.

Spike's heart clenched at the tears pooling in Willow's eyes. “There's still some time,” he soothed. “Doesn't have to be tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Giles agreed. “There is a bit of time, but you do need to accept the fact that you can't hide here forever Willow. We are all going to be needed and very soon.”

Willow hung her head and only nodded. A spark of anger shit through the vampire. “Even me, watcher?”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, yes, even you,” Giles begrudgingly acknowledged. “Thank you for dinner, but I best be going.” He rested a gentle hand on a still quiet Willow. “You can do this. You need to believe that.”

Willow looked up and gave him a small, watery smile. “I'll try.”

Giles nodded. “I'll see myself out.”


	10. Passport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return to Sunnydale is looming ever closer

They cleaned away the remains of dinner in silence. Each lost to his or her own thoughts as dishes were washed, dried and put away. Spike fervently wished the mundane task was able to engage his wandering mind far more thoroughly. Seeing the watcher again conjured up thoughts of Buffy, which led to other things he would much rather not dwell on at the moment. He felt raw and vulnerable, like a scab had been knocked off a partially healed wound. He simply wasn't ready for this yet. Christ! His thoughts turned to his silently working companion. Willow had plenty of ghosts of her own and this must be equally as hard on her. 

“You okay? You're awfully quiet.”

Willow looked like she was trying to give him a smile but it only made her look like she wanted to be sick. She shrugged listlessly, giving up all pretence. “I'm just not sure I'm ready.”

Spike nodded. “I get that.” He gently took the last dry dish from her hands and gave her a push towards the other room. “Go put your feet up and I'll make us some hot chocolate.”

“Thanks,” she said, giving him a grateful look over her shoulder as she left the room.

Spike busied himself with milk, cocoa and stirring. This was a delicious, delectable vice for both of them. The warm, creamy chocolate soothing and calming. 

Willow had lit several candles and was curled up on the couch listening to the radio, which filled the room with the soft, strains of Bizet. Spike had been mildly surprised, and secretly pleased, by Willow's fondness for classical music. He'd thought her too young to appreciate something other than The Dingoes. He probably should have known better and felt a small pang of regret for the countless times he'd underestimated the young witch. 

Spike set the tray he'd been carrying on the table, handed Willow a steaming mug and settled himself comfortably on the other end of the couch his own mug cradled in his hands. They sat quietly for a time, listening and sipping. Spike sighed happily as the warmth spread throughout his body. Willow looked over at the sound and grinned knowingly. She lifted the edge of the tartan throw she'd slipped off the back of the couch, inviting him to hold onto the warmth a bit longer. He scooted over a bit and joined her under the folds of cloth.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“Welcome,” she sighed.

Spike looked over sharply. “What is it?”

“Hmmm?”

“What's got yer knickers all in a bunch?”

“Hey, I'm unbunchy,” Willow protested.

Spike chuckled lowly before sobering. “C'mon, Red. You know you can't fool me. I've been living here long enough to know when something's wrong. Is this really all about going back to Sunnydale?”

Willow frowned and studied her mug. “Yes... no.”

“Look, Willow, if you're thinking your friends aren't going to be able to forgive you for what happened then you're wrong. No one is going to blame you for what you did.”

Willow turned to stare at him with wide eyes. “Spike, I-I killed someone.”

“Yeah. While out of your mind with grief. That's not something people won't be able to understand.”

“I guess,” she said, studying the remaining chocolate in her mug.

Spike nudged her gently with an elbow. “What else then?”

“Who says there's anything else?” she asked with over-bright eyes.

“I do,” Spike assured her. “Look, Red, you can tell me anything. I've lived long enough to have heard it all and done most of it. Can't really shock me.”

Willow carefully set her mug on the table and Spike noticed her hands were shaking slightly. He stifled an urge to hold them within his own in silent comfort. The girl didn't need any comfort from the evil undead. Instead he leaned forward and placed his mug next to hers before relaxing back once more. 

“I'm scared,” she whispered, worrying the blanket between her fingers. “After what happened I lost all control. It was like the magic took me over and I couldn't stop.” She looked up at him wearily. “I wanted to stop. I did. But it was like I was on the outside watching myself do these horrible things.”

Spike understood only too well exactly what she was describing. Ever since the restoration of his soul, he'd felt something eerily similar. “I get that,” he finally offered.

Willow looked up from her lap with a spark of hope. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Ever since I won back my soul. It's like all the things that I'd ever done, all the evil, all the...” He paused feeling vulnerable and slightly queasy. “Killing. It's like it was me but it wasn't. I couldn't stop it.”

Willow reached out and grasped his one of hands. “I'm sorry.”

Spike stared in wonder where their hands were joined. He raised his head and met her eyes. “But it was what I was and it's all in the past. And it's time for me to move on. Move beyond who I used to be and find out who I am now.” 

“That makes sense,” Willow said, nodding thoughtfully. “Do you think that could work for me too?”

Spike shrugged. “Don't see why not. What happened to you is in the past too, isn't it? It's time we both move on, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “We can move on together.” She blushed prettily and her green eyes widened. “Uhm, I mean...we can work as a team... helping! Helping is good.”

Spike grinned at her discomfort. She did have a way of making him feel good without even meaning to. “So you ready to find your passport and get packing?” He could've kicked himself when the embarrassed smile slipped off her face to be replaced by a frown of worry. “I have an idea that might make things easier,” he added hurriedly.

“You do?”

“What if we can somehow anchor you so the magic can't overwhelm you again?”

“I can't believe...why didn't I?” Willow managed, flustered with disbelief. 

“Too simple a solution, maybe?”

“It's perfect,” Willow breathed, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Then it's settled,” Spike said, looking down at the top of her head in awe. “Tomorrow you start packing and I'll visit with Katrina.”


	11. Pyrrhic Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike learns something important

Spike rapped tentatively on the door to the coven leader's cottage becoming even more agitated by his own nervousness. He had no reason to be nervous. He was a Master vampire deserving of respect among the demon community, and although they normally chose to deny it or gloss over it, a coven was a part of that community. 

So lost in his thoughts, Spike almost missed the distracted call to 'enter'. Pushing open the door Spike raised a hand to test for wards and felt the shiver of magic vibrating against the palm of his hand. It was what he'd been expecting. Gritting his teeth, he crossed the threshold, shivering involuntarily as the magic prickled over his skin. 

Quickly shaking off the effects, Spike looked around the room and saw Katrina seated at a table. As he ventured closer he could see she was studying a scroll which was yellowed and wrinkled with age. Various reference books were stacked haphazardly around the rest of the surface and Spike smiled when he imagined what Rupert's comments would be regarding an untidy workspace. 

“Not bothering you, am I?” he finally ventured when nothing seemed to be forthcoming from the witch. 

Katrina looked up and smiled. “I'm sorry, William. Please sit. Would you like something? Tea perhaps?”

Nodding his thanks, Spike made himself comfortable in the only vacant chair. “Uh, tea's fine.”

“I'll be right back,” she said, bustling through a doorway which presumably led to the kitchen. 

Spike could hear the faint sound of water running and the quiet clacking of crockery. He leaned forward and unashamedly peered at the scroll being careful not to actually touch it lest it crumble to dust beneath his fingers. It was in an ancient language, one which Spike wasn't entirely familiar with. At first glance, he thought it might have been an offshoot of Latin. On closer inspection, he realised that many of the words weren't even close to being any type of Latin. 

Scowling he slid a pad covered in notes closer to his side of the table. Tapping a thoughtful finger on the page he compared the few translated words with the ones on the scroll, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction as things started clicking into place. He'd managed to add one more word to the translation when Katrina re-entered the room carrying a tray. As Katrina busied herself setting out the tea things, Spike nudged the pad in her direction. 

“Translated a bit o'that for you.” Spike said, sitting back in satisfaction at his accomplishment. 

Katrina paused to look over the addition. “Very good. I should have enlisted your help earlier. So what did you think?”

“Of what?”

Katrina handed him a cup and retook her seat at the table. “The prophecy. You did read it, didn't you?”

“Ah,” Spike said, taking an unusually great interest in stirring his tea. He had looked at the scroll, and the words, but hadn't actually put them all together. He scrambled trying to remember what he'd just read. “It was... I have no idea,” he finally admitted. “Prophecies never seem to work out very well for me. Always far more trouble than they're worth.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. She took a sip of her tea before pinning him with her sharp gaze. “So, William, how can I help you?”

“Willow and I were talking last night and she's afraid the magic will overwhelm her again. I was wondering if it would be possible to anchor her somehow?”

Katrina watched him carefully, smiling slyly, and Spike had the distinct impression he was being manipulated. “I think that is an excellent idea. Not only is it possible but it is also highly favourable.”

“And why is that?” Spike asked, trying to keep the annoyance our of his voice. He hated being used.

“It is all here,” she explained, waving a hand in the direction of the scroll. “The prophecy tells of a powerful witch who will bond with a vampire. But not just any vampire. The vampire must be souled. The bonding serves as an anchor for both of them.”

Spike frowned in annoyance. “'M not the only souled vampire in existence,” he protested.

“No,” Katrina said thoughtfully. “I do, however, think you are the best choice.”

“Well, I don't.” His hands balled into fists of frustration in his lap. “This...it's too hard.”

“Do you consider your soul to be a pyrrhic victory?” she asked quietly.

Spike considered the question. Had the price of his soul cost him so much as to not be a victory at all? No. He wouldn't allow that. It had to be worth something. “No, no I don't.”

“Then it's settled. I'll finish the translation and we can perform the ceremony before you both leave.”

“Not so fast. I haven't agreed to anything and neither has Willow.”

“Why do you object?”

Spike chose not to explain his reasons and focused on his friend instead. “Willow should have a say in who she bonds with don't ya think?”

Katrina sighed. “Very well. But you are merely delaying the inevitable.”

Spike stood and headed for the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “You may think it's inevitable, but I don't. I don't care what some pompous arse has scribbled on some flimsy bit of paper. I make my own destiny.” Spike gave the door a satisfying slam on his way out. 

He never noticed the small smile on Katrina's face as she watched him go.


	12. Chakra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Willow talk

Willow paused when the door opened and Spike came bustling through. “Hey,” she said, looking up and giving him a tight, tense smile.

Spike nodded and neatly stepped around her to pace agitatedly in the smallish living room. He knew she would be anxious to know how his meeting with Katrina went, but he still felt too wound up to talk about it rationally. He bit restlessly at a nail, desperately wanting a hit of nicotine. He turned abruptly and was brought up short by a frowning redhead. He frowned back. 

“What?!” he nearly shouted in exasperation. Willow got that line between her eyes that Spike had quickly learned meant she wasn't entirely too happy. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, concentrating on soothing and calming the maelstrom churning away in his guts. He took another deep breath, and another. He felt a hand on his arm and opened his eyes.

“Sit,” Willow said, indicating the sofa and the mugs of hot chocolate on the low table.

“'M sorry,” he said taking a seat and accepting the offered steaming mug.

“It's okay. Well...actually, no it's not, but I understand. So, yeah, I guess it is okay.”

Spike couldn't help but grin at her circular logic. “Thank you. Don't deserve it, but thank you.”

Willow shrugged. “Maybe you do and maybe you don't. Or maybe, it isn't up to you to decide.”

“Maybe,” Spike chuckled, taking a sip of the hot, calming beverage. “Hmmm...you're getting good at this.”

“I had a good teacher,” Willow said, placing her mug back on the table. “So you wanna tell me what that was all about? I thought I was the one who was totally freaking out because we're supposed to be going back to...” She paused, swallowing heavily and paled a bit, but forged ahead. “Back.”

“It'll be okay, Red.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Spike shrugged his shoulders. “It just will.”

She looked at him slyly out of the corner of her eyes as she played with the fringe of the blue throw over the back of the couch. “You're just saying that aren't you? You're not really sure about anything.”

He could tell that she wanted him to tell some fantastic tale of how he could be totally sure everything would always be fine. But he couldn't do that to her. He couldn't lie and tell her everything would be fine, even if it was all he wanted to do in the world right at that moment. “No, you're right. I'm not sure about anything. Not really. But there are a few things I am sure of.” He put a gentle finger under her chin and lifted her face up to his. “I'm sure of you, and Buffy and even that git Xander you seem to like so much. The lot of ya never give up, never give in and you tend to win. I'm more than happy to bet my unlife on that.”

He felt a frisson of hurt when Willow pulled away. Her eyes met his once more. Bruised and unsure, asking questions he wasn't sure he had answers for. “But will I be enough? Can the coven help? Can I do this?”

Spike grasped her shoulders, resisting the urge to shake some self esteem into the witch. But at least they'd finally gotten to the heart of the matter. It was the moment Spike had been dreading and longing for all rolled into one. His soul was screaming to be needed and wanted, but at the same time he cringed from the demon wanting to take and claim. Were his affections so trifling that he could flit from Buffy to Willow without a thought? He shook himself from his own musings to concentrate on the person who really needed some attention right now. “You can and you will. When I brought up the idea Katrina was thrilled at the suggestion.”

“Really?! But why?”

“It seems that we, or at least you, play an important part in what's going on just now. 'Parently there's this prophecy about a witch and a vampire, a souled vampire.”

“That's a huge bit of a coincidence.”

“I thought so, too,” Spike agreed. “Doesn't change the facts though. A powerful witch will bond with a souled vampire and it serves as an anchor for them both.” Willow looked away with a sigh. “'M sorry, Red.”

Her head snapped back quickly, her eyes wide. “What? No! This makes things so much easier. I- I'm glad it's you.” 

“Doesn't have to be me. I mean, wouldn't Angel be a better choice?”

Willow crinkled up her nose. “Angel?” she echoed. “Why Angel?”

“Ya gotta admit I'm a bit … unstable. Angel's soul been stuck on longer. He's had more time to adjust. He's got his chakra all aligned or whatever.”

“But don't you see?” Willow protested, shaking her head. “That's all the more reason it should be you. Remember what you said? It anchors us both. You need this just as much as I do.”

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't.”

“You don't know that.”

“Let me tell you something mister,” she scolded. “I believe in you. I believe in you and your soul a lot more than Angel and his. At least you don't go around misplacing yours all the time.”

“There is that,” he allowed. “ But … promise me you'll sleep on it before you make any decisions?”

“I can do that,” she replied with huge, jaw cracking yawn. “And speaking of - I'm exhausted. All that packing-”

“And fretting,” Spike teased, following her down the hall to the bedrooms.

“And fretting.” She paused at her door. “I do believe in you. I know you don't think so, and especially now, but you're a good person, Spike.”

Spike watched dumbfounded as she closed her door. “I only wish I could believe that, Red.”


	13. Safeguard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up this week guys, it's a bit of a wild ride

Spike came awake by increments, slow and achingly familiar in a very uncomfortable way. There was a cold, damp hardness at his back and when he stretched slightly a roughness scraped across his skin. He tried opening his eyes, blinking into the gloominess of the room. He scrambled to remember where he was and what had happened, but his memories proved elusive and failed him. 

He hung his head letting his weight pull on his arms. He peered upwards and saw that each wrist was encircled by heavy metal. He gave an experimental tug, wincing as already bruised skin chafed and his abused shoulders protested the movement. He cursed the near blackness around him which prevented even his enhanced sight from seeing very much. He could make out some vague shapes – what might be a table, some shelves on another wall and what might be a heavy door off to his right. He inhaled deeply, desperate for some clues to his whereabouts, smelling stagnant water and a vague scent he felt he should know, but couldn't quite place. 

That haunting familiarity washed over him again and he pushed back on the rush of panic which came with it. If he could only remember what in the hell had happened! He knew if he'd still been human his heart would be racing wildly and his body would be covered in a fine sheen of sweat, smelling of confusion and terror. But he wasn't human, even if the winning of his soul brought him closer to being the human he had once been than ever before. He knew couldn't allow himself to fall into the trap of human responses as he'd once done when he was that young fledge whom Angelus seemed to garner such joy from tormenting. 

Angelus! Of course! 

It all clicked shockingly into place. That elusive, familiar scent. It was family and home. It was fear and dread and death and pain. But how? 

He'd been with Willow. They had talked before going to bed. And now he found himself here. Chained, shirtless, sore and shivering. Willow! Spike tugged mindlessly at his restraints, his mind chanting her name over and over, until the blood ran in rivulets down his arms.

He panted and wondered uselessly how the hell this had happened. How the Broody Wonder had lost his bloody soul this time? It was as if the damn thing had been stuck on with velcro. The sound of the door scraping across the stone floor brought him form his musings.

He squinted as the bare overhead bulb flicked on, his eyes watering even in its dull light. 

“William, my boy. You're looking good,” Angelus taunted. “So glad you could hang around.” Angelus laughed at his own joke and shoved Spike hard into the unforgiving stone at his back. Spike bit back his gasp as his raw skin scraped over the rough surface yet again and he let out a small growl instead. Angelus merely smiled and looked back to the doorway. “C'mon, Darling, don't be shy.” He raised an arm expectantly and wasn't disappointed when Willow stepped slowly into his embrace. 

Spike was grateful to see she was still alive. All the same, she kept her eyes downcast and her skin was pale as parchment. He could see the bite mark on her neck and swore under his breath.

Of course, Angelus noticed and grinned conspiratorially. “Lovely little thing, isn't she? And to think I have you to thank for such a wonderful gift.”

“What?” Spike managed to rasp out. 

Angelus chuckled as he led Willow, who moved as if in a trance, over to the table. “Imagine not wanting to bond with such a delightful, not to mention powerful, witch.” Spike shook his head not wanting to believe. “Let's see what other delights she has,” Angelus purred while his hands easily shredded the clothes from Willow's unresponsive form.

“No!” Spike objected.

Angelus turned, his face thunder. Three angry strides brought him across the room and he backhanded Spike across the face. “You dare to tell me what I can do with my bonded?”

Spike licked at the blood on his lip where the skin had split, even that meagre moisture welcome. He stared back at Angelus, refusing to back down. “Don't touch her.”

Angelus laughed and gently caressed the bruise that was already forming on Spike's cheek. “Oh, William, don't worry. I won't forget you.” Angelus' fist was suddenly twisted in Spike's hair and cruelly pulling his head back while brutal, unforgiving lips took his own in an unwanted kiss. Spike wanted to bite but that was a hard lesson learned many years ago. Instead he quietly, numbly allowed the violation and ignored the groping hand at his groin. Angelus finally pulled back, his lips red with Spike's blood. “Just as tasty as I remembered, boy.” 

Spike closed his eyes and growled in impotent frustration. His eyes snapped open at the frightened squeak from across the room and he watched as Angelus sat the naked Willow on the edge of the table. Spike didn't want to see this. Didn't want to watch what he knew was coming. He could see Angelus move his arm and he knew he was taking out his cock. He could see the flash of pain across Willow's face and knew he'd failed her. He watched helplessly as a lone tear tracked slowly down her cheek and his soul shattered and his heart broke. Because of his own fear and foolishness, he'd failed to safeguard her just as he'd failed so many others.

“No,” Spike moaned. Anger and fear and regret roiled in his guts. “No!” he repeated over and over, and his voice grew in strength until he was screaming....

“Spike! SPIKE!”

Spike sat up with a start, his chest heaving. He grasped at the hands on his arms, felt the solidity of them. Startled green eyes met his and he heaved a sigh of relief. “Just a dream,” he breathed.

“Must've been some dream,” she said, settling on the edge of his bed. “Hope you don't mind me barging in but you were yelling and … are you okay?”

Spike was touched by her genuine concern. He nodded slowly. “'M fine. Sorry I woke you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently.

Spike shivered and looked away for a moment. “Not really. Not now at least.” He reached up and brushed some silky strands of burnished red away from her soft green eyes. He felt a fierce sense of affection and protectiveness wash over him, but instead of fighting it, he embraced the feelings. “I have made a decision though,” he said. “About the bond.”

“Oh?” she asked with an impish grin.

“Yeah. If you still want to... with me, I mean. I know I'm probably not your first choice, and I make a lot of stupid mistakes. But if you think you could-” Spike broke off when Willow started laughing. He scowled at the giggling witch, who only laughed even harder.

“Oh Goddess,” Willow said breathlessly. “You've been hanging around with us too much if you can babble like that.” He scowled at the giggling witch, who only laughed even harder. She finally regained control and stroked his cheek with her fingertips, her eyes soft and caring. “I told you before, Spike, I believe in you. We'll go see Katrina tomorrow.”


	14. Hecatomb

Spike hadn't thought he'd be able to fall asleep again. Not after dreaming of Angelus, but after Willow had left, his eyes had finally drooped and he'd drifted off into a thankfully dreamless sleep. He'd woken sometime in the late afternoon finding Willow in the kitchen baking some brownies and humming along to the radio.

“Thought you reserved the brownies for when you'd done something truly awful.”

Willow squeaked in surprise and nearly dropped the pan. “Don't **do** that,” she scolded, but she was smiling. “Nothing bad this time. It's more of a comfort thing.”

“Sunnydale?” Spike guessed.

Willow nodded. “I know it's probably silly, but I can't seem to stop worrying about seeing Buffy and Xander again. I mean, I want to. I've missed them so much. It's just...” She trailed off with a shrug.

“It's okay. I get it. We all have our own ways of coping with things.”

Willow closed the oven door and turned to lean against the counter. “You mean a coping mechanism,” she said, nodding along with her words. “I think you might be right. Would've been kinder on my waistline if I'd chosen shopping like Buffy or country music like Xander.”

“Dunno 'bout that, Red. Gotta admit, I fancy baked goods over shoes or country music any day.” Spike shuffled his feet a bit. “So what about me? Seem you got all the others sussed out.”

“What do I think is your coping mechanism?” Spike grinned and nodded. Willow narrowed her eyes at him while she chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Hmm. Drinking? No. Anger? That's not right either.” She studied him a moment longer before she finally said, “Ya know it's kinda amazing. You always seem to just adapt to whatever situation you're in. How do you do that?”

“You're a lot more adaptable than you think and there has been copious amounts of alcohol involved on more than one occasion.”

As Spike had anticipated, Willow laughed and the moment was broken. Spike didn't want to explain the notebooks full of badly written poetry. Didn't know why he'd brought up the stupid subject at all really. Besides he hadn't exactly lied. There usually was a lot of alcohol. It made for some interesting reading the next day. 

After greedily wolfing down a warm brownie each, they left the house and chose the well worn path to the left. Spike looked up at the overcast sky through the tree branches. One thing he would miss about England was the weather. Most days he could manage about without the need to dash around under a blanket. Certainly made vampire life easier here than in Sunnydale. Course, as Red pointed out, he was adaptable. 

Spike stopped Willow with a gentle hand on her arm when they reached the steps leading up to Katrina's door. She looked up at him enquiringly. “Are you sure 'bout this? I get the feeling once it's done there's no going back.”

She put a hand over his and squeezed in reassurance. “I'm sure. I don't want Angel or any other vampire. I want you-” She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening and blushing an attractive shade of pink.

“'S okay. I know what you meant,” Spike said kindly. He gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

Willow nodded and he followed up the short flight of steps while muttering, “hope there's no hecatombs involved.”

“I don't think they do those sorts of things anymore,” Willow said, looking over her shoulder and laughing.

Katrina met them at the door and led them to a room where a casting circle appeared to be permanently etched in the floor. There was a long table covered in bowls, jars and vials of varying colours along the wall opposite the door. Bookshelves filled with ancient volumes and newer works lined the other walls and candlelight cast an otherworldly glow over the whole of the room. Spike could feel residual magicks dancing across his skin like ants and he gave a full body shiver.

“I'm sorry,” Katrina said. “I'd meant to do a cleansing to make it easier for you but I didn't have time.”

Spike waved away her apology. “I'll manage.”

“Very well. Now if you'll both take a seat inside the circle facing each other. Close enough to hold hands, please.”

Spike felt a flutter of nervousness as he sat on the floor across from Willow. He'd never been fond of spells and witchcraft, especially if they were being used on him. To be doing this willingly seemed madness. But he also knew they both needed this. He took a deep breath and tried to relax.  
Katrina walked around the outside of the circle reading from an ancient book and sprinkling herbs on the floor. She raised a knife which she anointed with a thick gel which she scooped out of a small glass jar. She lifted a small goblet from the floor.

“William, your hand please?” she asked moving to his side, but being careful to stay outside the circle. 

He raised his arm and winced slightly at the sharp pain across his palm. He watched as his blood flowed freely into the cup. The gel must gave contained something to inhibit his blood from clotting. She handed him a dampened cloth which he wound around his palm. He was unsurprised when the bleeding quickly stopped. 

Katrina crossed to the other side of the circle and picking up another goblet, she did the same to Willow. The elder witch moved away after handing Willow another cloth. Katrina waved her hands over the goblets and spoke some words Spike didn't understand. 

Exchanging the goblets she handed one to each of them. “Drink,” she instructed.

Spike inhaled the delicious aroma of warm, human blood before letting the fluid flow over his tongue. He held back a moan at the taste and carefully handed back the goblet. 

“Join hands.”

Spike reached across and grasped Willows hands in his own. He felt a strange sense of calmness and briefly wondered where his earlier nervousness had gone. He watched as the remainder of their blood was combined in a bowl and sprinkled with a blue powder. More words were spoken while Katrina poured the now purple fluid over the joined hands. 

Spike could feel the magick reach a crescendo and it was like a switch had been flipped. It was powerful and overwhelming. He was suddenly filled with thoughts and feelings that were not his own. He felt dizzy trying to cope with the overload and vaguely realised that he and Willow had slumped forward so they were resting against each other. 

Spike tried to push away. If he was getting all this from her, what must she be feeling? His past was violent and bloody and he knew, just knew, Willow would be horrified by all the things he had done. 

“It is done,” Katrina announced.

Spike moaned and forced himself to crawl outside the circle leaving Willow curled up on the floor behind him. “How could you allow this,” he hissed. 

“It is only the newness of the bond which leaves you both so open,” Katrina explained calmly. “You will both learn control.”

“How can this be good for her? This darkness? You expose her to the very thing she is trying to fight.”

“Nonsense,” Katrina objected. “Your soul is just as good and pure as anyone else's and even more valuable since you fought so hard to regain it. Don't you have any idea what you have done, William?”

“Do you?” Spike countered.

“I do,” Willow said from where she had levered herself up from the floor. “I can feel it.” Spike cringed inside knowing all he had done and feeling the shame of it. He tried to turn away but Willow reached out to him, her eyes shining, not with horror, but understanding. “I knew you cared, Spike, but I never understood the capacity for love you have inside. The love you felt for your mother, your family, Buffy and Dawn.” She placed a hand on his cheek and wiped away the tears he hadn't even known were there. “Even for me.”


	15. Ichthus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our duo head back to Sunnydale

As they headed back to Willow's cottage, Spike did his best to get control of his feelings. The intensity of the bond was fading, but he could still feel a strong resonance that he now associated with only Willow. It was a sweet, reassuring thrumming, a constant in the background. He'd briefly thought it might become annoying. But, happily, so far he'd found the opposite to be true. It was a calming, soothing balm to his nerves and emotions. He smiled when he realised it was exactly what it was supposed to be – an anchor. 

He slid a look over at Willow, who was walking quietly by his side. She appeared as deep in her thoughts as he had been in his. He wondered how much of his feelings were coming through the bond and felt a flush of embarrassment. He knew he had habit of giving his heart away on a whim, but this felt more than that. This felt real and honest. He shook his head in frustration. He couldn't even seem to explain it to himself, how could he possibly explain it to Willow. No. It was better to let her think he felt for her the same sisterly feelings he felt for Dawn.

Willow led them into the sitting room and they skirted the waiting luggage to take a seat on the couch. “That was …,” she began before trailing off with her hands waving in the air.

“Bit hard to explain it, huh?”

“Understatement,” Willow declared. “Was it what you expected?”

Spike squirmed in his seat. “Uhm...yeah.”

Willows eyes widened in amazement. “You had no idea what was going to happen, did you?”

“No?”

“My Goddess! How could you? I mean, why would you?”

Spike merely shrugged. “You needed my help.”

“I-I'm not sure what to say.”

“Nothing to say. You needed my help and I gave it.”

“But you ...did what you always do, didn't you? You saw someone who needed your help and you went rushing in without thinking or even knowing the consequences.” 

Willow looked stern, but Spike could feel her concern clearly. “'M sorry. It's what I do, isn't it? No wonder I could never get the better of you lot.” 

“Well, I would appreciated it if you didn't go running into things without thinking from now on.” Spike raised an eyebrow, but wisely kept his mouth shut and merely nodded. “While you were still sleeping earlier, I had a chat with Katrina about the bond and what we might be able to expect. I'm sure you've noticed we can sort of read each other and that it works both ways.”

“Kinda got that. Glad it's toned down a bit though.”

Agreed,” Willow said with a grin. “It was a bit intense there for a while. Supposedly as we get used to the bond and each other, we will gain more control.”

“More control? How?”

“Katrina didn't have all the details and of course each pairing is inherently differently in and of itself. We may be able to communicate with each other over some distance or only a few feet or maybe not at all.”

“Could come in handy. What about the main purpose of the bonding? How are you feeling?”

Willow sat thoughtfully for a moment, considering her words. “I feel more centred, more secure. Of course, I haven't attempted any spells yet, but I'm not terrified of it anymore either.”

“That's good then, yeah?”

“Yes, yes it is.” A knock sounded on the door. “That'll be Giles,” Willow said, hopping up to let the watcher inside. “Hey, Giles.”

“Willow, Spike,” Giles responded with a nod. “All ready then?”

Giles and Spike stowed the baggage in the boot of Giles' car and they were soon heading off to the airport. 

“I noticed you didn't have any luggage yourself,” Spike finally offered after waiting for about a mile for some kind of explanation.

“Giles?” Willow questioned.

“Yes, well... There had been an attack on the Council.”

“An attack!” Willow shouted, alarmed.

“I'm afraid so. The main offices have been totally destroyed.”

“And the watchers?” Spike asked quietly.

“In session. We're not entirely sure of the number of casualties as of yet. It is one of the reasons I must remain behind.”

“But if the Council is under attack won't you be in danger? I'm not sure we should leave you here alone. And no, I'm not making more excuses to avoid going back.”

“I never doubted you for a moment. However, under the circumstances, I think it would be best if you both returned to Sunnydale. I will join you as soon as possible.”

“If you're sure,” Willow said doubtfully. Spike tried to send as much reassurance her way as he could. 

“I am. There seems to be only a few of us left and we need to sift through the ...remains of Council headquarters to see if there is anything salvageable. There is also the matter of the Council funds and other holdings, including a small library that was kept off of the main site.” 

Spike leaned forward pondering the situation. “S'pose that turned out for the best considering. Any idea who would do this? I mean, it's not like the location has ever been a huge secret, but something like this has never happened before. And yeah, I know all about protection wards and whatnot. Not like those things would actually stop someone who really wanted to destroy the Council.”

Giles glanced over his shoulder at the vampire. “Are you trying to suggest that the demon community simply allowed the Council to continue? That the actions of the slayer were of no interest to them?” 

“Not exactly uninterested, “Spike commented, shaking his head. “Council made things interesting didn't it? Not to mention keeping most of the rabble and riff raff from getting out of hand. And slayers? I don't think I need to remind you what it means to a demon to ...never mind.”

Willow looked slightly puzzled. “You mean they used the Council to keep the lesser demons in line?”

“Not necessarily lesser,” Spike explained, “but more violent and more apt to destroy this world than to try to get by in it. Sorta like that time with Angelus. Fool idea releasing hell on earth. Some demons don't use their heads for anything more than hanging a hat.”

“Hmm, interesting.” Giles commented pulling up at the curb and opening his door. “I'll be sure to leave out the part about Angel when I see him next.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Ta. Have enough problems already. Don't need his broodiness on my arse, too.”  
“Do you have any idea who did this? Any clues at all?” Willow asked, taking her hand luggage.

“Well there was an icthus symbol left outside but that could mean anything really.” 

“Could mean you had a preacher at your door or maybe nothing at all,” Spike added. 

“Exactly.”

Willow hugged Giles close. “Just promise me you'll be careful.” 

“I will. And you as well.” Giles turned to include the vampire at Willow's side. “Both of you.”

“That's right decent of you Rupert.”

“Hmph. Well, let's not push it shall we?”


	16. Back Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience while I was working on stories and images for Fall for Spander. Now back to our story!

Spike watched as Willow fidgeted nervously with her seat belt. “I think it's fastened.”

Willow blushed and grinned sheepishly. “Worried about seeing your friends?”

“Are they?”

“What? Your friends?” Willow looked out the small window as the plane moved slowly to the runway. When she turned back, her eyes were shadowed with doubt and pain. She nodded and her hands crept back to twist at the poor abused belt. Spike slipped his fingers between her fidgeting ones. “Course they are. Expect they always will be. You're just feeling a bit nervous 'cause it's been a bit since you've seen 'em.”

She looked up at him with the wide trusting eyes of a child. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“I'm sorry.”

Spike tilted his head, curious. “What for? Haven't done anything so far as I can tell.”

“I know but...” Willow sighed and his fingers tightened around hers encouragingly. “I feel like I'm always doubting everything and whining all the time. You must be so sick of me by now.”

Spike laughed, but stopped at the scowl on Willow's face. “Not sick of you, Red. Not by a long shot. Buffy on the other hand? Now she's a world class whiner.” Spike pitched his voice higher and did his best to imitate the slayer. “Oh, poor me. I'm the chosen one. Another pair of shoes ruined and I chipped a nail.” 

“It must be hard having all that responsibility,” Willow said defending her friend. Although she was giggling and Spike smiled at the sound. “And it is awfully hard on her wardrobe.”

“Well, boo bloody hoo! And she's not alone. What about the rest of you? You've given up plenty for a calling that isn't yours. Even that git, Xander.”

I suppose,” Willow allowed. “But it was our choice to help.”

“Not saying it wasn't. Just pointing out that things are difficult all 'round. Slayer isn't the only one allowed to whine a bit now and then.”

“Okay. I see your point,” Willow agreed. “But you have to promise that if I ever get too whiny, you'll let me know.”

“It's a promise.”

They spent the majority of the flight watching movies and being plied with copious amounts of food and drink. Spike figured it was how the airlines kept the passengers happy and quiet. At least until they, hopefully, fell asleep. He looked down at the red head nestled contentedly on his shoulder. At the moment, he wholeheartedly agreed with airline policy. 

Willow stirred when the plane touched down on the runway with a screech and a bounce. She rubbed tiredly at her eyes and looked blearily around the cabin. “Where?” she questioned around a yawn.

“Just landed,” Spike said, feeling a tenseness creeping in. One he hadn't felt since he'd moved into Red's little cottage. Unfortunately, he only expected it would get worse. Willow may be mistaken about how her friends would react, but Spike knew exactly the kind of reaction he was going to get.

“Guess we better get going. Do you mind getting the bags down?”

“Sure, luv,” Spike said, getting up from his seat, grateful for something to do to take his mind off of the imminent and unpleasant reception he was about to face. He plastered a small smile on his face. “Ready?”

Willow smiled back and if her smile looked just as fake as his own? He didn't bother to comment on it. 

They made their way to the exit and smiled back at the cheery steward. “Thank you for flying with British Airways. We hope you enjoyed your flight.”

“Thank you,” Willow responded, ever polite and full of kindness.

Spike merely nodded on his way by.

The walk to the luggage carousel was filled with more polite, benign chatter. Spike hated every minute of it. Their easy familiarity was gone and in its place was an awkwardness that he'd thought they'd both left far behind. Spike growled in irritation at the people in his way. He felt a hand on his arm and he looked down. 

He stopped walking and let out a breath. He could clearly feel her concern through the bond and no doubt she could feel his irritation just as clearly. “I can't - It's just...” he trailed off not knowing how to explain his feelings.

“I know,” Willow said, slipping her hand down to grasp his. “I feel it, too.” She raised their joined hands between them. “But we have this and no one, not anyone, can change that.”

Spike looked away at the milling people. All so alone. He tried to relax and let go of his anger at the situation. It certainly wasn't Willow's fault and he knew this couldn't be easy for her either. He was being a selfish git. “You're right. 'M sorry, Red.”

She shrugged. “It's okay. A very wise friend of mine told me things are difficult for all of us.”

Spike felt a shock of surprise. “Is that what I am? A friend?”

“Yes.” She gently grasped his shoulders and placed a gentle, sweet kiss on his cheek. “And that's a good place to start, isn't it?” she whispered, before turning and walking away.

Spike watched her retreating back, the warmth from her closeness slowly fading away. He shook his head and followed after her with an extra spring in his step and cursing himself for the lovesick fool that he was.

The happy little smile slid from his face when he saw who was waiting for them. There they were: Xander and Buffy. One moment they were hugging and kissing Willow and the next they were glaring in his direction. 

“What is **he** doing here?” Buffy asked, her voice cold.

“He's here to help,” Willow explained.

“Well, we don't need your help,” Xander sneered. “Not now and not ever. So you can just go to wherever the fuck slime-balls like you go.”

Spike stiffened but remained silent. He was here to help and causing an argument here in the airport wasn't going to help. Besides, they had good reason to hate him. 

“Xander, please. Don't be like that.”

“Like what, Willow? You know what he did,” Xander said, jerking his head in Spike's direction. “I don't know how you can even be near him.”

“Xander, it's okay,” Buffy said.

“No it's so not.”

“This isn't the place,” she warned.

“Look,” Spike said, “I'll go.”

“Good. Go skulk away to some back alley. Good riddance,” Xander snapped.

Spike ignored him.

“No,” Willow objected, moving closer to the vampire, her eyes suspiciously wet.

“Red – Willow, it's for the best.”

“Where will you go?”

“I'll be fine,” Spike said trying to reassure her. “I know some people.” He leaned in closer to whisper, “Remember our bond, yeah? You'll always be able to tell how I am.”

“I'll remember,” Willow promised.

In a swirl of leather, Spike walked away.


	17. Relocation

Spike stood outside the airport just down from the taxi rank and reached for his cigarettes. He hadn't smoked much when he'd been in England with Willow. At first he hadn't wanted to subject Willow to his old habit, but then, as time went on, he realised he simply didn't feel the need to have one. Now the habit came crashing right down again with a resounding bang. Wonderful what the Hellmouth combined with the wonderfully warm welcome from Harris and the wounded look in Buffy's eyes could do for a guy. The realisation that he'd left his luggage inside didn't help. He didn't have all that much, but what he did have was his. And he wanted it. 

Deciding to wait outside until the Scoobie brigade left, he lit the cigarette in his hand and watched the cars and people come and go. Hearing familiar voices exiting through the sliding glass doors, he pitched his smoke and merged with the group of tourist entering through another door. He really didn't want a replay of his earlier encounter.

Safely back inside without being seen, he headed to the luggage carousel and retrieved his battered duffel bag. Slinging it over his shoulder he considered where he could find a place to stay.

He didn't want to make Clem move. Oh, he knew the demon would be willing to share, but Spike wanted a bit of privacy just now. He'd simply have to relocate himself. Angel's old flat might still be vacant. Angel did have a habit of not letting go of something once he'd acquired it. Shame the same couldn't be said for Angel's family. His Sire had a bad habit of either abandoning his childer or simply killing them outright.

Figuring enough time had passed so the Scoobies should be well away, he headed outside to collect his own car. He hopped the bus which would let him off near the lot owned by Gary, a demon who owed Spike a favour or two. Spike got off at the bus, paid Gary, including a generous tip. Spike had learned early on to take care of acquaintances because you never knew when you might need their help. Besides, Spike had gotten a pretty penny selling the jewels he'd found with the gem of Amara. It had taken a bit of work digging them out, but it had been worth it. There was no way he was going to go begging to his sorry excuse for a sire and depending on the Scoobies for charity wasn't an option either. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. He figured the chip must have scrambled his brain so much he hadn't been thinking straight. 

Regardless, it gave him an independence he hadn't had before. And one he was loathe to give up. 

As he drove back to Sunnydale, Spike considered whether he should ask Angel for the use of the flat or simply move in. He'd already left LA so going to see his sire was a moot point. He supposed he could always call, but then Angel was heading up that law firm. Something Spike wasn't keen on getting involved in himself. Being a bigwig now, Angel probably wouldn't even notice if Spike appropriated the abandoned flat. Angel being too big and important to worry himself over an insignificant little flat. 

Problem solved, Spike crossed the line into Sunnydale, smiling at the sign as the sleek black car drove by. 

The flat was dusty and in need of a good clean, but the utilities were still on, making the job that much easier. After collecting his things from Clem, who greeted Spike with a wide smile and a rib creaking hug, Spike tossed his bags in the direction of the bedroom and sprawled comfortably on the couch with a bottle of cold beer.

Spike started and grabbed for his coat when the pocket started playing a familiar tune. Digging out the phone, he read the text with a sappy smile: Miss you! When can I visit?

Spike typed out a response even as he headed for the door and around the corner to the shops. He had a guest to get ready for.


	18. Whimsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the lovely Pickamix. This was so very difficult to write – for you my friend, I miss you so very much.

Spike hoisted the bags in arms higher, grateful for the location of his new home, and hurried on through the cooler air of the evening. In the past, he had a tendency, like most other vampires, to set up house on the outskirts and less populated areas. It made sense not to live where you feed, but that really wasn't a problem for him any more. He had to admit that living so close to the centre of town definitely had its advantages, like the proximity to the shops. 

He nearly ploughed down an elderly woman on the corner and slipping out a steadying hand, he offered his apologies. She gratifyingly accepted his apology and complimented such a nice young man on his manners with an easy smile. He huffed out a laugh as she tottered away. Spike wondered at the plume of visible air as it left his mouth. It was funny that even though it was Southern California, there always managed to be a slight nip to the air at this time of year. He peered up at the twinkling decorations bordering the main street and shook as his head in wonder when he spied the last minute, impulsive purchase at the top of his bag. Having a soul had certainly changed him in ways he hadn't expected. The previously embarrassing William was no longer such an embarrassment and Spike finally acknowledged the strength which had always lay within his slightly effeminate, human self. Shaking his head, he hurried the rest of the way home.

Flipping on the lights, he lowered the heavy bags to the table and began emptying the contents. He stopped at a station on the radio which sent soft 1940's music through the small flat. It suited his mood perfectly. He thought fondly of Dru and the years they'd spent together, visiting and becoming welcome in New York, Paris and London. They would spend the nights going out to the most prestigious clubs to listen as bands played these songs and they would dance, laugh and drink with their friends. It had been a good time and Spike smiled, leaving the radio dial right where it was.

There was a light knock on the door and Spike took one last look around at the bits of decoration he'd put up in an effort to make the place more cheery. There was a pine wreath with a large, red bow over the fireplace, some candles and a scattering of pine cones amongst the logs. The smell of pine permeated the room and he felt it looked … well, a whole hell of lot better than it had. He shrugged and went to answer the door.

Willow's welcoming, happy smile made his undead heart leap and he couldn't help smiling back.

“Hi,” she chirped with a cheery little wave of her hand.

“Hi,” Spike said, moving aside to let her enter. “It's not much, but, well ...” He grimaced and wondered what on earth he'd been thinking. He'd been acting on whimsy and nothing good would come from his fantastical ideas. This girl is way too good for the likes of him. 

Willow wandered around the room, taking in his efforts. She turned a blinding smile his way. “It's beautiful!” She did another quick look around and turned back with a small frown. “You need a tree though.”

“A tree?” Spike choked out.

“A tree,” Willow confirmed. “We'll get one later.” It was a a statement which brooked no argument. Spike figured he'd be getting a tree later. 

“Hot chocolate?” Spike offered moving to the small kitchen.

“Yes, thanks,” Willow said following and taking a seat at the small table. She swayed slightly to the music as her eyes followed him as he went about his preparations. He set a steaming mug in front of her, took a seat and stared into his own mug, contemplating the steam and looking for answers. “Spike?” He looked up reluctantly, but there were no accusations, only questioning wonder in her eyes. “Why are you sad?”

“I-I ...” Why was he sad? He was just as confused over his own feelings as she was. He wanted this girl with a passion, the same passion he'd hadfor Dru. It wasn't like with Buffy. Willow was so very different and deserved his honesty. “I'm sorry. I can't help how I'm feeling.” Her eyes widened in surprise. He hurried to reassure her, “I'm not expecting anything from you. I know it's not been long since …Tara and she was a very special lady.”

Willow reached out and snagged his fingers. “I don't think time makes any difference. I'll never love Tara any less and I'll never forget her. New love is just that. It's new and special all on its own.” She squeezed his fingers and smiled encouragingly.

He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her fingers. “So beautiful.” Willow blushed and looked away. Spike tugged on her fingers until she looked at him again. “You are, Willow, and don't let anyone tell you any different, yeah.”

“Thank you,” she whispered back, still blushing hotly. “How about a movie?”

Spike blinked at the subject change, but went along with it. He felt mellow and light and oddly content. Smiling, he rose from the chair and switched off the radio. “Sounds good.”

They lifted their mugs and settled together on the couch. Spike could feel her warmth all along his side and he nearly purred in happiness. “So what are we watching,” Spike asked.

“ _It's a Wonderful Life_ is on," Willow said, hope making her voice go high.

Spike turned his head and grinned at her. “I thought you were Jewish?”

“And I thought vampires didn't do Christmas?” Willow grinned back.

“Right,” Spike said, grabbing the remote. “ _It's a Wonderful Life_ it is.”


	19. Cabaret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to move things along a bit

Spike had, for the most part, avoided going over to the Summer's residence. It was filled with young girls, whom Giles claimed were potential slayers. Giles had telephoned after getting a grasp on the damage to the Council and, along with the remaining watchers, salvaging whatever could be out of the mess that was left behind. But Buffy's house was not only filled with a gaggle of giggling girls, it was also a landmine of memories, both good and bad. 

Spike knew he'd have to face his demons at some point, but that didn't prevent him from putting it off as long as possible. Xander had also been an extremely frequent guest at the house and he was definitely someone Spike wanted to avoid for as long as possible. It was't that he was a coward. Spike knew what he had done, accepted it and had moved on. It seemed that Harris was stuck in the past and refused to let go of the incident involving Buffy or, and to Spike's mind more importantly, Anya. Spike felt the boy was not only angry, but was harbouring a large dose of unhealthy jealousy. It wasn't something Spike wanted to confront. Not right now anyway.

And there was Joyce. God, how he missed her. Her wisdom and kindness and the best hot chocolate he'd had in ages. She'd always been kind to him. Even when she'd discovered who and what he was, her opinion hadn't changed. It had also tickled him immensely to know she disliked Angel so very much. The lady had taste. And class. And her passing had left a huge gaping whole in his life. It was something else he didn't want to face. Another hurt to add to his already bruised and fragile soul.

Spike sighed and pondered the closed door. He really didn't want to be here. But Buffy had asked, so here Spike stood fidgeting on the porch and debating about knocking or just a quick rap and entering. 

Before Spike had a chance to come to a decision, the door swung open and Buffy stood looking up at him. 

“Spike,” she greeted. “I thought a felt a ping on my vampire radar.”

“Buffy,” Spike nodded, then shifted uncomfortably. “You wanted to see me?”

Buffy smiled and beckoned him inside. “Yeah. And can I just say how odd it was to discover you had a phone?”

“Not the vamp still livin' in the stone ages, am I?” Spike responded, looking around. He could hear other people in the house, but he didn't actually see anyone other than Buffy. “Thought ya had a houseful of bitty slayers?”

Buffy threw him a grin over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. “Most of them are training out in the back yard, some are helping out at the Magic Box and the rest are upstairs.”

Spike nodded and followed her along. “Is that wise?”

“What?” she asked with a small laugh. “Letting them train without supervision or allowing them near the bathroom with only Dawn to watch over them?”

“I was thinking more of the ones outta sight. Thought something was going after them?”

Buffy shrugged and grabbed a couple of mugs from the cupboard. “Should be safe enough with Willow and Xander. Besides, whatever this is? It seems to prefer taking us on one on one.”

“Not so much for groups, huh?”

“Nope,” Buffy replied. “And would you please sit?”

“Well, wasn't really sure of my welcome, ya know?”

Buffy paused in her preparations. “I know I wasn't exactly thrilled to see you at the airport. I wasn't expecting... I didn't know you'd be there.”

“Buffy, I am sorry. I don't want to make things harder for you.”

“It's okay. I asked you here, remember? And will you _please_ sit down.” She waited and watched while he sat on one of the stools around the kitchen island. “Thank you.” She busied herself getting a pan and some milk from the fridge. When she'd started the milk heating, she finally turned to him. “I only wanna talk about this once.” Spike nodded. “What you did was wrong-”

“I know and I can't begin to tell you-”

“Let me finish.” Spike nodded again. “What you did was wrong, but what I did was wrong, too. What we had together was so mixed up and we just kept hurting each other. It really was killing me. And it was killing you, too.” Buffy poured the warmed milk and chocolate into the mugs. She slid one on front of the quiet vampire.

Spike looked up with shame in his eyes. “That's no excuse for what I did.”

“Maybe not,” Buffy agreed, leaning her arms on the wooden surface of the island between them. “But I forgive you and I want you to forgive yourself.”

Spike studied the dark, steaming liquid. “I don't know if I can.” A bag of tiny marshmallows slid into view and he looked up.

“Try?” Buffy asked with a sad, tiny smile. “For me?”

Spike flashed her a quick, painful smile. “I'll try,” he agreed, wondering how she'd become the one to be consoling him. His unlife was certainly full of twists and turns.

“Good. Now how about some ideas of what to do with all these potentials?”

“Could turn the shop into a cabaret and make a small fortune.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm. “Do people even go the things any more?” 

Spike was relieved and warmed to hear her laughter. Maybe things could and would work out after all, and they could both finally heal.


	20. Curmudgeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles and Angel come to visit

Spike was training the slayers in the Summer's backyard when he heard a commotion from inside the house. His attention was so totally concentrated on what was going on inside that Kennedy, one of the potentials and a huge pain in Spike's arse, caught him on the side of the face full force and knocking him to the ground. 

With his head ringing, he stared up at the too young faces, and the smirking one. “'M fine,” he grumbled. 

Grasping the hand thrust in his direction, he bounced up to his feet and faced a grinning Willow. “Oops?”

Grateful vampires didn't blush that easily Spike shrugged. “Yeah, well.” He looked around at the young potentials. “That's enough for tonight.” They raced for the door and the shower.

Willow placed a comforting hand on his shoulder “What happened?” she asked softly.

“Something's up inside,” Spike explained with a head nod in the direction of the kitchen door. Willow looked alarmed and took a step closer to the house. “It's okay.”

She stopped and turned. “Are you sure?”

Spike cocked his head and listened for a moment. A small smile spread slowly over his face. “Yeah. Sounds like the watcher's in town.”

“Giles?!” Willow asked, bouncing on her toes. “Giles is here?” When Spike nodded, she leaned up and kissed his cheek before racing inside.

Spike followed at a more sedate pace so that by the time he'd reached the living room the uncomfortable hugging was already done. 

“Spike,” Giles greeted him with a nod of his head.

“Watcher,” Spike replied with a head nod of his own.

“I was just saying to the others that Angel and Wesley should be here soon.”

Spike stiffened at the name while Buffy looked mildly uncomfortable. Willow moved to stand by Spike's side, offering silent comfort and support. “Great. A visit from that old curmudgeon,” Spike whispered. Willow hid a grin behind her hand.

“And I was saying that was just what we needed,” Xander sneered, “another untrustworthy vampire hanging around.” Xander turned to face Spike directly. “What is it you're supposed to be doing here anyway? Choosing your next target?”

Spike's jaw clenched and he vibrated with tension. He'd had enough of this shit. More than enough. He'd taken an angry step in Xander's direction when Buffy intervened.

“Xander, that's enough. He's helping. Which is more than you're doing right now.”

Xander looked hurt, which made Spike absurdly happy. Harris had taken enough pot shots at him, it was nice to see Xander on the receiving end for a change. With one last disgusted look at Spike, Xander flopped in the chair. “Fine,” Xander said. “But if he kills you all in your sleep? Don't come crying to me.”

Buffy rolled her eyes then threw her hands up in the air in defeat. “Children. All I do now is deal with children. I'm supposed to be the slayer not a babysitter.” 

A knock suddenly broke the awkward silence of the room. Everyone looked towards the door. 

Buffy sighed tiredly. “Please remember he's here to help.” She glared at the room in general before heading for the door. When she came back to the room, Angel and Wesley were trailing behind her. 

“Ah, Wesley,” Giles said. “Have you found any more information regarding the First?”

“The First?” Buffy echoed.

“Yes. The First as in the First Evil,” Wesley explained.

“And what does that have to do with what is going on here? Giles?”

Giles cleared his throat and looked slightly embarrassed. “I hadn't actually had a chance to explain. What with the new potentials and all. After you gave me the description of those creatures you and Spike had been encountering recently, I undertook as much research as possible with the limited resources still available. I uncovered some references to this First Evil and rang Wesley to see if he had any further information.”

“That explains Wesley,” Xander said standing from his chair and pointing a finger at Angel,” but why is he here?”

Buffy put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “He's here to help. Remember?”  
“Actually,” Wesley began, “We did come across a reference to a weapon of great power and a spell which may be of some use.”

“Well point me at it,” Buffy declared, sounding grateful for something to do.

“It's not that simple I'm afraid. Although there are references, it doesn't give a description or where to find it.”

“Great,” Xander huffed. “Just great. Any more good news?”

“What about the spell?” Giles asked. Ignoring Xander's remark.

“Ah, this we know more about. It was a part of a prophesy we came across during our research. Essentially the spell would unite a vampire and a witch making them both more powerful and potentially capable of defeating The First. We thought that Willow and Angel would be the ideal pairing.”

Spike and Willow shared an uncomfortable glance.

Angel placed a hand gently on Buffy's shoulder. “I wanted to talk to you about this first, but there wasn't time. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I wouldn't do this if it wasn't for the greater good.”

Spike felt Willow flinch against his side. “Don't listen to him, pet. He's always been a stupid git.”

“You want? With Willow?” Buffy asked, looking shell shocked.

“We all need to do what we can,” Giles explained.

“Hey,” Xander objected. “What's wrong with Willow?”

“STOP!” Willow shouted. She blushed lightly when they all turned to look at her. “Stop talking about me as if I wasn't here.”

“I'm sorry, Wills,” Buffy said giving her friend a hug. “I didn't mean that the way it sounded.”

“I know and it's okay. But this isn't what I want.”

“Willow,” Angel said from behind Buffy. “We all need to do what we can to defeat whatever this is.”

Willow chewed nervously on her lip and glanced over at Spike, who smiled and nodded. “I'm sorry, but I can't.”

“Willow,” Giles pleaded.

“I can't because I'm already bonded.”

“What?” Buffy sounded betrayed.

“Oh no!” Xander objected, pointing at Spike.

“It's already done,” Willow explained.

“Then undo it!” 

“Xander, please try to understand.”

“No, never.” Xander looked at the other shocked faces. “I need to go.”

“But Xander...”

“Let him go for now, Red,” Spike said. Willow nodded sadly and rested her head on Spike's shoulder.

Angel loomed over them both. “What do you think you're doing, William?”

“What needed to be done. Isn't that what you were spouting? Not that it's any of your business.” Spike squeezed Willow's hand to soften his words. 

Buffy seemed to come out of her shock. “Willow how could you?”

“What?”

“You know what happened.” she said with a distinct look in Spike's direction.

“You said you forgave him for that, Buffy.”

“Who? For what?” Angel asked.

“It's nothing,” Buffy replied before turning back to Willow. “I have. I did, but still, I thought we were friends. 

“We were, we are!” Willow exclaimed. “Buffy, he was there when I needed him.”

“And what? You're saying I wasn't. That we weren't? How could we be if you weren't even here?” 

“I had to go. You know that. I needed to regain my focus, my control.”

“And you found that with Spike?” Buffy accused.

“I think that's enough,” Spike intervened. 

“Spike,” Angel warned.

“No, Angel. We're leaving. You can discuss this all you want when we're gone. But right now? We've heard enough. We. Are. Going.”


	21. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel visits with his Childe

Spike wasn't surprised when he opened the door and found Angel on the other side. 

“William,” Angel glared. 

Spike sighed tiredly. “Liam”

Angel waved a hand at the space behind the other vampire.“Do I have to ask to come in my own apartment?”

“Your flat, mate,” Spike said, stepping aside.

Angel looked around, picking up an item here and there before putting it back down. “Like what you've done with the place,” he said sarcastically.

Spike figured he better warn Angel before he got carried away. “Willow's sleeping in the other room and if you wake her up I'll dust you before you can say Poof.”

“As much as I'd like to see you try?” Angel questioned with amusement. “That's not why I'm here. There was something I was wondering about.”

Spike snorted. “And what's that.”

“According to the prophecy the vampire who bonds with the witch has to have a soul. Last I remembered? You didn't qualify. You want to explain that?”

Shit. Spike looked away suddenly finding the conversation uncomfortable. He knew Angel wouldn't take no for an answer. So, he did what he did best and resorted to bullshit. “Maybe your precious prophecy is wrong then, huh? Ever think of that?”

“It crossed my mind. In fact, I discussed the possibility with Giles and Wesley before c  
oming here. Do you know what they said?”

“No, but I'm sure you'll fill me in.”

“They assured me the spell would be impossible unless the vampire had a soul. So, you want to tell me how this happened?”

Spike turned away, staring at the flames in the fireplace. He could feel Angel's eyes boring into his back. “Fine,” he said, turning and throwing his hands up in the air. “I have a soul. Happy now?” Spike thought telling the truth was worth the gob-smacked look on Angel's face.

“How? When?” Angel squinted at Spike from across the room. “How did you get cursed?”

“Not cursed,” Spike scoffed.

“Then how?”

Spike lifted his chin. “Earned it.”

“You earned it?” Angel asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

“In Africa.”

Angel visibly deflated and there was something in voice, something which almost sounded like awe.“The Asphyx Demon?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, softly. He remembered how difficult the trials were and there had been a point when he thought he wasn't going to survive. It wasn't exactly a pleasant memory.

“And you survived?” Spike gave him a look. “Of course you did.” Angel flopped on the couch. Spike let the silence draw out while Angel digested the news. “Are you sure this is the best thing for Willow?”

“You mean am I sure I'm the best thing for Willow?” Spike joined the older vampire on the couch. Was he sure? He let out out a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “No,” he answered honestly. “I'm not sure at all. Willow is though. Shit. I dunno.”

Angel rolled his head along the back of the couch so he could see Spike's face. “How did you cope?” Spike raised his eyebrows in question. “The soul. You seem so … normal.” This time Spike laughed. Angel scowled. “Normal for you,” he qualified.

Spike shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno. Just do. If I had a magic solution I'd tell ya. Don't get me wrong, the soul hurts. It burns.” Spike stopped. He hadn't intended to reveal so much. Spike looked over at the other vampire. Angel was nodding in understanding. “Not gonna take my head off for the bond with Red?”

“No. You're bonded. She knows you better than anyone now. So, if Willow trusts then I do.”


End file.
